The Coffee Guy

Two months ago, I gave a guy my phone number because he wanted to get coffee some time.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

We were regulars at the same coffee shop but we never talked to each other outside the recognition nod when we saw each other. I’ve spent a lot of time in that coffee shop over the years so I know most of the regulars pretty well and I honestly knew nothing about this guy. When I saw him about town two months ago, we got to chatting when he suggested we meet up for coffee some time.

Coffee. Such an innocuous little word. If I wanted to imply ‘coffee or possibly a date’, I’d say ‘coffee or drinks sometime’ because the alcohol suggestions implies drunken-make-out-hook-up-regretful-one-night-stand. Or it implies something like that. At the very least, it implies more than just ‘coffee’. (Unless you’re saying ‘coffee date’ which he totally wasn’t. He was just saying ‘coffee’.)

He gave me his number and then asked for mine, and I obliged. Once I got him talking he seemed like he’d be interesting to chat with so coffee sounded like a great idea. I was busy that week with life, but some time soon we’d get together for coffee. My first hint that he wasn’t just looking for a friendly coffee was his parting admission “I’ve been wanting to ask for your number for so long but I was too nervous.”

I receive my first text from him the following night. He can’t stop thinking about me. What are my plans this weekend? He’s free after 7pm on Saturday. He hopes I’m having a good week. I finish doing my dishes while I wonder exactly when I flashed the “I’m interested in something more than just coffee” sign because I really don’t remember being anything but polite and cordial. Given that he had only previously seen me in the coffee shop, I am polite and cordial with everyone there. I honestly thought he just wanted coffee.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I wait until Sunday and text him back saying that I’ve been really busy. Perhaps this would have been the right time to come out and say that I have no interest in him, but instead, I just ensure that the text doesn’t imply a time when I will be available for coffee. I am foolish in my hope that he will take the obviously-too-subtle hint and back the fuck off because he follows this text by thanking me for replying, he’s been missing me and that he’ll be ready for that coffee any time I’m available.

A week later, he phones and I debate ignoring the call but against my better judgement, I answer it. He starts telling me about his day and some friend he helped find a job for because he’s a good guy and if I’d just give him a chance, I could see that he was a good guy. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s saying but I’m not really sure because he’s slurring his words. It is 5:30pm on a Wednesday and he’s either drunk or heavily doped up on pain medication after a hard days work (which he had previously told me goes until 6:00pm). I’m tired, I hate myself for answering the phone, and he’s not giving me a second to respond to anything he’s saying so I finally just start talking over him that I’m busy and can’t talk. He apologizes from profusely for calling and that perhaps it was too forward of him but he just can’t stop thinking about me and really wanted to make sure I was okay and still remembered about our plans for coffee.

Here’s the thing: I have never thought of this guy as attractive. I have never once looked at him and thought “I’d do him!” Never. It’s not that I think he’s ugly or even just plain, old unattractive, it’s just that I have never been attracted to him. Just the idea of kissing him creeps me out. Add to that his creep-tacular texts about how he can’t stop thinking about me, and any desire to have coffee with a possible friend has turned into a desire to hide in my apartment, shunning all social contact, just to ensure I never see again. My one saving grace is that his construction contract in my neighbourhood is over and he’s no longer a coffee regular.

The texts continue for a while but he ups the creep factor and starts talking about how beautiful I am. Now, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I found that a little flattering – what girl doesn’t like to hear that she’s beautiful – but it also meant I went from a polite “so sorry, so busy” to complete radio silence. He hadn’t done anything creepy enough to warrant a “fuck off” text, he was just a little more aggressive in his texting than I would have liked. As long as he gets the hit and fucks off of his own volition, then I can still be cordial in future interactions.

Cordial but distant, like a waspish housewife.

The plan worked and I’ve been free of his contact for a little over three weeks. Until today. I didn’t notice my phone vibrating in my bag while I was out for a walk and I missed his phone call. That’s right, phone call. He didn’t leave a voice mail and I’m not phoning him back. The only good thing is if he contacts me again, I’m finally angry enough to send the “fuck off” text.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My new New Years Resolution is that 2012 will be a Coffee-Guy-free year.